Afterglow
by Shiro Ryuu
Summary: In which Katan is overly emotional, and Rosiel is cold and sexy with a cigarette. A study of opposites, and how they attract. Contains dark humor, or some dark stuff and some humorous stuff, or something like that. [shonen ai]


**AN: **Hee, I can't stop giggling for some reason today. I think I've downloaded too many yaoi wallpapers lately (too _many_...?). I also think I just dropped ice-cream in my keyboard (yes, _in_, as in between the keys). All in all, this seems like to perfect frame of mind in which to try a slightly different take on Katan/Rosiel, don't you agree? ...Well, okay, so I _tried_, though whether I succeeded... Hee, just read.

* * *

Sometimes, Katan would wake up first. Today, it appeared, was one of those days, because Rosiel was still here.

As usual, he kept his eyes closed for awhile even after he was really fully awake, just savoring the moment. Which was a bit odd, really, since actually he wasn't very comfortable; his head was bent at an odd angle, propped up against the wall, and Rosiel was crushing him. He was very warm, though, and in Katan's opinion that was more important.

A long time ago, this would have been the designated time-slot for his guilt trip. He couldn't remember anymore when he'd given up on that, though. He had long since learned that he couldn't really stop Rosiel from doing anything that the inorganic angel even half-way wanted to do. And it wasn't as if he could make Rosiel do anything he didn't want to do, either, so what did it matter if he maybe encouraged him, just a little...?

Bright brown eyes drifted lazily open. Rosiel's head was pillowed on his chest with one purple-clawed hand resting beside it. Ashen strands of hair coiled through thin digits most artistically, and Katan decided that he wanted to wrap a few locks around his own fingers as well. His own feathery hair was rough by comparison. He smiled to himself, because he rather fancied that Rosiel was smiling too, ever so slightly in his sleep. Theoretically Rosiel was his father, and sometimes he still thought of him like that, but when he slept he looked just like a child, so innocent, and so it didn't matter that there were scratches and burses all over his torso and even on his face... though he didn't think he would have complained anyway. Though it was probably a little crazy to feel this way about a crazy person, he felt like he was just about to overflow with feelings of love and vaguely sappy protectiveness, just from seeing him like this. So, even though he really wanted a shower and breakfast and a cup of coffee, and even though he knew that the man would more than likely be gone when he woke back up, Katan allow his eyes to slide shut again - he was, after all, very warm.

* * *

Rosiel's eyes flew wide open, and for a moment he fought an overwhelming disorientation and vertigo. It... _she_... oh. It had been that dream again...

Reality gently reasserted itself. Everything, he assured himself, was as it should be. His room. Katan, radiating soothing heat underneath him with his arms wrapped around him... Rosiel sighed, and carefully disentangled himself.

He sat naked on the edge of the bed, knees apart and elbows resting on them, oozing easy self-confidence even as his shoulders slumped. His head... He wrinkled his nose at his weariness, and a lit cigarette appeared between his fingertips; he inhaled deeply from it.

He wondered idly what day it was. Was it morning yet? What was the plan for today? Or was it Sunday? Rosiel regarded the smoldering tip of his cigarette seriously. No... it was probably Wednesday. It felt like it had just been Sunday yesterday, so it was probably at least Wednesday; worship was so _tiring_.

He found his eyes slipping imperceptibly over his shoulder, so he forced them firmly back to the carpet at his feet. He knew from experience that Katan was especially stunning when he was sleeping, covered in last night's bruises, so he preferred not to look.

"Silly boy," he groused under his breath.

His cigarette was just about burned out; he eyed it for a moment, and then turned to press it casually into Katan's outstretched hand. The angel gasped and groaned, brows wrinkling, but he didn't wake; Rosiel smirked. Deep sleeper... or maybe he was just used to it. The flesh would heal quickly, so it didn't matter. Rosiel left the dead ashes where they lay, and Katan could think what he would of him - but, after a moment or two of inner conflict, he also curled back up on his familiar place on his chest, because he was far too weary to get up just yet. Katan sighed sleepily, and the pained creases on his face smoothed out almost immediately.

**Owari**


End file.
